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"LOST AND FOUND!"

[From the same.]

O'ER Liffy's high tide as a boatman was rowing,

The waves mountain-high and the winds loudly blowing,

A passenger cried-(by the hurricane tost,)

"O, shall we not, boatman! be all of us lost ?""Botheration!" said Boat, "be at aise on that matter; You'll be after being found, sure enough, at low-water!” ALONZO.

A LETTER FROM A PEACE-OFFICER IN ONE OF THE DISTURBED COUNTIES TO A NOBLE LORD.

[From the Morning Chronicle, Aug. 27.]

OU'LL not wonder, my Lord, since his powers you increase,

That our justice no longer 's a justice of peace;

He's breaking our slumbers to make us be quiet—
A method quite Irish of quelling a riot.

Derry Down.

'Tis a system, some say, fundamentally crazy,
Not to think of our peace till you 've made us unaisy:
But such ways you were bred to, or else I'm a Turk ;-
State-tinkers, like others, will make themselves work.
For instance, when things in the navy were slack,
You embark'd a whole army for Flushing-and back :
There they took-the fog-fevers, but could not endure 'em―
So you shipp'd off a posse of doctors to cure 'em.

1

My maxim you've learn'd, and once more pray fulfil it— When a child cries, the nurse must be waken'd to still it ; So come, my good Lord, and heal all our peace-breaches; You may make our quietus with one of your speeches.

DOGBERRY.

ADVICE TO NAPOLEON THE GREAT.
[From the Morning Post, Aug. 28.]

TAKE two hundred brave "Lads" from Paris' gay scene,
Who a "cordon deserve"-that's a halter, I ween;
Let 'em fight fifteen thousand-ne'er stand for a score,
Let 'em kill 'em and eat 'em-then so many more.
By pursuing for some time this Bobadil plan,
You'll have no foe in Europe-I mean if y
..you can.

A COMPLAINT.

[From the Morning Chronicle, Aug, 28.]

MR. EDITOR,

FROM your known readiness to advocate the cause of freedom, we hope to be favoured with an early opportunity of laying our grievances before the country through the extensive circulation of your excellent paper; although we have failed in another, whose columns are more generally appropriated to the humour of The Times, and is doubtless most profitable.

You must remember, that, about fifteen years ago, we were suspected of an intention to emigrate, or secrete ourselves from the public service; in consequence whereof a considerable number (which we have not the means of ascertaining) were ordered to be locked up in a certain public depôt, where it is supposed the greater part still remain state-prisoners. The country taking the alarm at this proceeding, a hue-and-cry immediately followed, and we hunted down by individuals also; whereby a much greater number (we have reason to believe) were shut up in private houses; from whence many of us have obtained our liberty upon condition of transportation, through the interest of our friends abroad, who have always held us in the highest estimation, and therefore paid a considerable premium for our ransom.

we were

Our deluded enemies, not satisfied with the above persecution, have since set a price upon our heads,

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which, however, we think, will not tempt any one to expose us; and all this has arisen through the infatuated ambition of a certain handmaid, whom our family raised up to represent us occasionally; by whose insinuating and bewitching address we have been supplanted in the favour of our country, and sent into banishment, or immured in prisons.

We are therefore desirous that those pains and penalties may be removed, and our respective merits decided by our Peers in Parliament at this time assembled; or that we may be restored to the active service of our country, by recovering that due precedence (derived from our progenitor Bullion) which we have obtained in all other states through our own intrinsic value; and on those terms alone we are ready to be reconciled to this handmaid, by taking her again into our service and protection; for she cannot long support her consequence or credit in the absence of

From one of our private Retreats.

THE DEARTH OF RAGS.

[From the same, Aug. 29.]

OUR paper manufacture flags
Most sadly, from a lack of rags,
And all the duncery of the land
Is now completely at a stand.

Of hot-press'd foolscap such the stint,
None but rich fools can tire in print!-
Of such a dearth no cause I see-
With Ireland our trade is free;
And on the globe no other nation
Has ampler funds for exportation.
While Spencer takes such special care
To pinch our bellies-backs to bare,
That England now, as well as France,
Has her new era of finance;
And cuts almost as high a caper,
With a depreciated paper.

SPECIE.

And

And do you really wish to know
Where all the rags, my good Sir, go?

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By telling me, command my thanks : In the sanctorum of our Banks

You'll find them stow'd-thence flounce and border Grow into Henry Hase or order!

(O what a name! the lucky dog!

For keeping people in a fog!

Through which we wander far and wide,

And Ministers are magnified.)"

"What, Sir! the vaults all cramm'd with rags,

Instead of solid money-bags!

Of guineas have we any chance?"-
"They're gone to Portugal and France !”-
"Sblood, friend, what is 't I hear you say?
The Bank is in a ticklish way-"

"Hush, my good Sir, and don't offend her,
She'll clap you in a legal tender!
Her offspring now, a flimsy bantling,
Like our hard guinea, won't bear handling
Peevish, and stuff'd with Treasury pap,
"Tis mighty apt to scratch and slap.
Be wise then, and in time withdraw,
And dread the vigour of her paw-
Wear out your shirts, like patriot true,
Your stockings and your cravats too,
And throw into the public stock
Your wife's bonnet de nuit and smock,
And little Miss and Master's frock-
Heap rag on rag-on tatter tatter,
Stuff, fustian, calico-no matter-
Let boarding-schools undress their dolls,
And vest the fripp'ry in consols;

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Tear, clip, shear, cabbage, borrow, steal-
You're working for the common weal;
Strive for the Bank with tooth and nail-
Find her in rags-she cannot fail—
'Tis rugs, I beg his Lordship's pardon,
That fill the pockets of Lord Arden.—
'Tis rags support (great Pitt's creation)
The universal Spanish nation,

Who

Who don't hate Nap-nay, some obey him;
So cannot fight, unless we pay 'em ;
Let all combine, a generous band,
To save this nearly sinking land.
Heaven bless 'em all-so warm, so pure,
Place, contract, pension, sinecure;
Long may they live Threadneedle's friend,
May Thread and needle never end.
They 're now essential to our members,
(Cow'ring o'er Magna Charta's embers,)
Cover'd, in this inclement weather,
With rap and tatters tack'd together;
And long live he, our weal who watches,
Spencer, spare King" of shreds and patches ;"
And Walcheren's Hero, agues stay,
That" rag of honour," Castlereagh!
And all the Lords with long and stiff wands,
And all the Dukes with all the ribands;
Gold sticks and pages of back stair,
And Marchionesses round and square,
And Chamberlain who spoils no sport,
And Vice, appendage of a Court.
Thus then my benediction ends,
Upon the RAG-AMUFFIN friends.

T. T.

A LETTER FROM JOHN BULL TO THE EDITOR OF THE BRITISH PRESS. [Aug. 29.]

DEAR friend, to the country I now am come down,

Quite sick of the hurry and bustle of town;

You remember I swore, but a few years ago,
That my face in vile London I never would show:
So I think that my reasons I ought to explain,
From the fear that my honour should suffer a stain,
You must know that the county in which I reside,
And, as sheriff, did onee at the hangings preside,
Lately lost, by the death of Sir Roger Crackpate,
Their old member for managing matters of state;
So my tenants, good creatures, all thinking to please,
And yet, not considering my comfort and ease,
Took it into their heads, but I cannot tell how,
To elect me their member, and with a low bow,

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